I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 18

***

“Where’s Juba?” I ask, nearly an hour after our meeting with the maharaja. Having been sent away to change into travel attire, though I’ve since ached for the beautiful outfit I’d worn, I can’t help now but to admire the loose fit of the golden tunic and black shalwar I’ve been given.

“He has changed and gone on ahead to assist Rakshin Mrunal,” replies the maid assisting me, her dainty hands, cloaked like the rest of her, in orange cotton. “Shall I take you to them?”

I shake my head. “Please, take me to the yuvaraja’s chamber first.”

The maid’s eyes widen an inch, before she hastily nods and leads me down a series of long corridors. When we stop before two giant guards, they cast curious looks my way, but do as told without a word, when the maid commands them to open a pair of ornately carved doors for me.

I enter as quietly as I can into a large, circular room. Though trimmed with geometric patterns of gold, its ceiling strung with chimes of rubies and pearls, the lack of furnishings is striking.

A large bed rests canopied beneath billowing, gauzy white curtains. A rug of deep crimson sewn with swirls of thread-of-gold carpets the marble floor.

Beyond these two luxuries, there is nothing.

No toy blocks or wooden swords litter the corners, as they had in Helios’ chambers. No tapestries or flower-filled vases line the walls, as they had in Ptolemy’s. 

This place is empty, save for the sleeping boy whose head rests on a pile of golden pillows.

I smile at him, for though his treatments have only just begun, already his cheeks are tinged pink; his short, dark hair has a touch of shine; and his chest rises and falls without any sign of strain.

“You are fighting so hard for one so small,” I whisper, kneeling to brush my fingers over his bangs. “If all goes well, you shall become the first Sa-Nesut of your generation. So rest for now, and grow stronger. I will rewrite fate whilst Helios works to change the heart of this place. And by the time you are grown, all the pains of the current world will be but a distant memory. I promise.”

My heart aches to think of what this poor boy must have suffered in our previous lives. But this time will be different. He will fully recover—he will grow and someday reign with all the wisdom of his grandfather, the fierce pride of his mother, and…

“You do know who Helios is, don’t you?” I whisper as I stand. “He will soon become your new father. And though he’s…different from all else around here, he has a genuinely loving heart that will cherish both you and your mother, from now until the end of time.”

Leaving little Dasharatha with that, I return to the maid and ask to be taken to Juba.

We find him speaking with Mrunal before the palace gates, where five white-cloaked men set about hefting sacks onto the backs of fine, jet-black horses. With a nod of gratitude to the maid, I walk over and join them.

“The men I’ve assembled serve alongside me as the heads of the rajkumari’s personal guard,” Mrunal says, and waves a hand out toward them. “They are all well-trained and fiercely loyal. You will be safe in our care, Selene.”

“I would feel safe even if you alone were our guard, Mrunal,” I say, smiling when his cheeks turn pink.

“You’ll be safe with me regardless of their company,” Juba mutters, flashing our guide a cold glance at the same time he unfurls a black headscarf. Setting it over my head, he explains, “They call this an uttariya. It’ll protect you from the harsh sun whilst we ride.”

“I was born and raised in a desert kingdom, Juba,” I say. “I am well acquainted with the functions of clothing like this.”

“Even so, you may find a Jambudvīpan desert to be more perilous than any of those in Kemet.”

“You mean—has the maharaja located Cearion? Has Taurus led him into the desert already?”

“He has, which is why we’ll leave now,” Mrunal says over shouts of ‘all set’ from our companions. “His Esteemed Majesty sent word that Cearion is headed toward the depths of the Marusthali Desert, nearly a thousand miles to our west.”

“A thousand—but how will we ever make it so far before…” I can’t bring myself to finish.

“That’s why they’ve chosen the Kamboyaka Assa breed to carry us,” Juba says. “Not only is their speed renowned even as far as Vaticana, but fresh mounts are kept at the Avasatha, the public rest houses, for us to switch out every 15 miles or so.”

“So long as we ride fast and with as few breaks as possible, we should arrive anywhere from a week to ten days from now,” Mrunal says. “It will be a rough journey, but please trust that we will do all within our power to reach your brother before it’s too late.”

 I nod. “Thank you.”

Mrunal turns away, headed off to fetch a suitable horse for Juba and I. Soon as he is out of sight, Juba takes my hands.

“If this journey does not end as you hope it will, promise not to blame yourself,” he says. “As with what happened to your parents, some things just cannot be changed, and you are not to blame.”

“There was no time to save Mother and Father,” I argue. “This matter is different.”

“But—”

“I appreciate your concerns for me—really, I do. But going back in time was meaningless if I still lose the people I love most. So please, don’t ask me to feel less responsible for preventing Cearion’s death. I fear I will disappoint you.”

Mrunal summons us before Juba can reply, waving swiftly toward the creature at his side. Topped with a brown leather harness, over which a red-striped blanket has been laid, the horse’s depthless black eyes watch us with a lazy curiosity.

I smile as I walk toward it, and accept Mrunal’s hand as he helps me to perch atop the gentle mare. A moment later, Juba takes a seat behind me with the reins already in hand. I groan the second he urges us three steps forward.

“I’ve got you,” Juba whispers, pressing his thighs tighter around my hips.

“I…I know,” I say, my stomach churning. “I know—”

“Selene!” a sudden voice shouts.

“Helios?” I crane my neck back toward the palace, where he and Raja pause in the grand archway.

“I’ll work hard to earn my place here!” Helios shouts. “So don’t worry about me and Ptoley. We’ll be just fine.”

“As will Juba and I,” I say, cursing the trembling in my hand as I offer a small wave.

“We shall hold you to that,” Raja says. “Now be off, all of you. Go with the blessing of Maharaja Ashoka te Jambudvīpa, and the promise of both his and my wrath, should you get yourselves into trouble.”

“We could have done without that last part, Highness,” Mrunal sighs, to the laughter of his men. Steering his steed toward the slowly parting gates, Mrunal takes the lead, whilst Juba falls in behind him.

My stomach lurches just as we slip onto the crowded street, my eyes clenching and head lulled back against Juba’s shoulder. Though the sick feeling inside only worsens as we move along, the sound of Juba’s heartbeat helps to keep my breathing steady. 

“Selene?” Juba asks, a few minutes later. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“It will be a long while before I can honestly say yes,” I admit, then breathe a laugh. “In our past lives you mocked me for my travel sickness. You said that allowing others to see such a blatant weakness was inviting our mistress’ displeasure.”

“Was I wrong?”

“Not even a little. Octavia for—…forced me, to ride to the market every Sunday, once she discovered the truth. The donkey spared my arms from carrying groceries back to the villa, but my stomach suffered every miserable step of the way.”

“That Juba should have found a way to spare you.”

I hold my breath as my breakfast threatens to surge up my throat. When the feeling passes, I shake my head. “You’d already helped enough in other ways.”

“Because you suffered through every task you were given?”

“I truly was terrible as a slave. I…” It strikes me then how cruel it might be, to mock my past failures before a man who has been given no option of failure in this life. “Juba, do you resent me? For being so pampered in this life, I mean.”

“No,” he says, and swerves us around a stalled cart in the middle of the street.

“Liar. You despise royalty—”

“I despise those who use their status and titles to dehumanize others. But you’ve done no such thing since we met. You’ve treated me and all the other lessers no differently than you treated your siblings or even the maharaja.” Softer, he adds, “More than anything, that quality has made me admire you.”

My heart pangs, and I dare a glance up. Juba meets my eyes with flushed cheeks, and the way he looks at me…

I lower my eyes; press a hand tightly over my roaring chest. I know that gaze and the unspoken kindness in its depths.

The comfort and encouragement.

The budding affection of the one who was meant to become so dear and precious to me.

But this Juba is not that person, I remind myself. And even if his expression is the same as back then, there’s a great difference between admiration and…

“Have I said something wrong?” Juba whispers, his breath warm against my ear.

I shake my head, unable to find the words to reassure him. But as we pass into the shadow of the city wall, and then beyond, questions dance on the tip of my tongue.

What all does admire mean to you?

Why did you look at me like that?

Do you maybe, possibly, somehow feel anything more than just friendly admiration for me?

Fear seals my lips. It’s difficult enough worrying whether we shall reach Cearion in time—I cannot handle the thought of humiliating myself with false assumptions!

Nor the heartache of hearing it said aloud, that the Juba of this life in fact does not feel anything more for me…does not love me…

To know it is one thing, but to hear it spoken from his own mouth would shatter my fractured heart beyond repair. So I try to relax, try to enjoy the feel of him around me as much as I can.

But several hours of wallowing in my tortured thoughts, and the unrelenting motion sickness, leave me utterly drained. Just as Juba had said, we switch horses regularly at quaint Avasatha. But I’ve only moments to catch my breath before we race off and the torment begins anew.

I am nearly faint from the twisting of my stomach when at last the sun dips beyond the horizon, and we stop to make camp. Two of Mrunal’s men set to building a fire, whilst the rest direct their horses to stand in a wide ring around it.

Juba hops down once we’re in position, turns, and pulls me onto wobbling feet. I try to insist that I am fine, only for my buckling knees to give me away.

Slumped to the ground and thoroughly embarrassed, I lean back with eyes clenched tight until the churning in my stomach lessens, and I’m confident that I will not be sick for the remainder of the night.

When I look up, no matter which direction I peer, the stars blur and vanish from view. I see their glow in my peripheral vision, but cannot look at them directly no matter how hard I try.

“Is there a new future up there?” Juba asks, taking a seat once our horse has settled onto her belly.

“The future lives in my heart,” I say. “It will only appear in the sky once I’ve stretched up and written our new fate with my own two hands.”

“We’ll both be free by then, won’t we?” As he speaks, Juba sets the left-most end of his scarf around my shoulders. “We will walk safely, bathed in the starlight cast over a world where Gustavian can never reach us.”

I rub my cheek into the soft, crimson fabric, and murmur, “I did not live to see such a future, before. But in my heart I can imagine it, and it is so, so beautiful, Juba. So peaceful.”

“I admire how your resolve has never wavered.” When I look up at him, Juba smiles, and the first flickers of firelight set his face aglow. “I mean it. Whatever weaknesses your body might have, the strengths of your soul far outweigh them.”

 “Thank you,” I breathe, only to glance away when I notice the heat in my cheeks. “You know, you…you’ve changed since our argument in the forest. I’ve been meaning to ask about it, but...”

“I…I need…time,” Juba mumbles. “I want to have the right words when I explain myself. I don’t want to confuse either of us.”

Peeking over, I see that his face has gone red all the way to his ears. It’s so wonderful a sight, and fills me with such hope—I can’t stop myself from leaning my cheek against his shoulder.

“Push me away if you’d like,” I say, reveling in the moment. For even if I’m reading too much into it, I feel like I did during our early days on the unnamed island, in our past lives.

 “Haven’t you any concern for how this looks?” Juba of the present chides, shifting his arm to support my back. “However kind they’ve acted, our guards could still spread rumors that’ll destroy your reputation.”

“Let them,” I reply, and banish the nagging memory of Raja urging me to prioritize my reputation, as well as the husband it might earn me. “There is nowhere else I would rather be right now. I don’t care what anyone else might think about it.”

“No influential principe will wed a woman rumored to favor slave boys.”

“I will not wed a man who looks down on the enslaved, let alone believes rumors over my honest word. I’d rather become a spinster.”

Juba breathes a laugh. “Your confidence is beyond comprehension.”

“Would you prefer me to be without it?”

“Never.”

“Good,” I say. “Then I shall remain as I am, and someday, you will become just as confident.”

“Will you write such a day into my fate?” Juba asks, as I flash him a grin.

“Haven’t you noticed yet, that I’ve already begun to?”

***